


Missionary Man

by Brenda



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek AOS, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Because It's Trek, For Science!, Gen, Genderbending, It's All Jim's Fault, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-16 22:59:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1364890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brenda/pseuds/Brenda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The things Leonard lets himself get talked into, all in the name of a successful mission...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Missionary Man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [random00b](https://archiveofourown.org/users/random00b/gifts).



> Originally written in March of 2011 for [this prompt post](http://azewewish.livejournal.com/952504.html).

"Are we really sure I have to do this?" McCoy grumbled, as he sat down – completely naked – on the biobed. "I feel like an ass."

"And a fine ass it is," Chapel told him, patting his knee comfortingly. "Just remember this is only temporary and you'll be back to your normal cranky self in no time."

"I bet he'll be just as cranky as a woman," Uhura offered, standing next to Chapel. They were the only three people in the room, to allow McCoy as much privacy as possible during the procedure. "I doubt his gender will change his personality."

"True," Chapel chuckled.

"You two don't have to sound so goddamn cheerful about this," McCoy said, with a glower.

"Relax, you'll be fine." Chapel pressed the hypospray against McCoy's neck.

McCoy winced. "Ow, not so hard."

"I have heard that doctors make the worst patients," Uhura commiserated, with an unrepentant grin. "How long until we get to see the, um, finished product?"

"Ten minutes?" Chapel guessed, then looked to McCoy for confirmation.

"Depends on body mass and muscle, how relaxed I am," McCoy continued, then grimaced in pain as the drugs started to take effect.

"As tense as you are, it'll be more like twenty. Try to relax, Doctor."

"Yeah, well, you try changing genders for a mission and see how _you_ like it."

"It's not my fault you're the only doctor in five hundred light years who knows anything about the Selay physiology, or that they'll only allow female physicians on their ships," Chapel beamed, more than a little amused at the idea of McCoy, of all people, having to do this. She'd never met anyone more inherently _male_ in her life. "And, oh, well, I'd definitely say the drugs are working."

McCoy nodded once, then blanched. "I think...I'm gonna to pass out now."

"Go for it," Uhura told him, soothingly, and she and Chapel both waited until McCoy was out cold and lying flat on the biobed before Chapel started to run the medical tricoder along his...well, _her_ body, now.

"Vital signs all good, blood pressure's fine, neuro-pathways look normal, everything seems...um..." Chapel cleared her throat "...anatomically correct."

"I'll say," Uhura affirmed in a strangled voice. "Did you have to, uh, make the Doctor so, um, top heavy?"

"The doctor's tall, even for a Terran," Chapel replied, in a prim voice. She had a feeling she'd need every ounce of professionalism she could spare for the next 24 hours. "We couldn't mess with height, not with so little time, so I just made him...her...proportionate."

"I get it, I'm just saying that's a lot of va-va-voom going on, as my grandmother would say."

"Hush," Chapel admonished, and smothered her grin. She waited another couple of minutes before gently shaking McCoy's shoulder. "Doctor? Can you hear me? How do you feel?"

"Like I've been in the middle of a Targ stampede," McCoy replied with a pained groan as he sat up, and his voice now matched his new body – low, smoky, distinctly female.

"The after-effects should wear off in a few minutes," Chapel replied, taking another pass with the tricorder. "How do you feel other than that?"

"Fine, considering." McCoy's hands – now long and slender and feminine – went immediately south to his chest and cupped. "How do you ladies keep your balance with these things?" he asked, staring down in amazement. "I feel like I'm going to tip forward at any second."

Uhura bit back a laugh. "Practice, sir, I mean, ma'am," she replied, in her best diplomatic voice.

"Bras help," Chapel added. Then: "Also, not all women are as...well-endowed."

"Huh," McCoy said. Then: "So, undergarments aren't just for seduction?"

Uhura lost the battle to keep a straight face. "No ma'am," she bit out before the laughter bubbled out.

"It's an honest question," McCoy grumbled, then glanced even further south. "I feel naked."

"You are naked, sir. Ma'am," Chapel helpfully supplied.

"No, I mean, without anything between my legs."

"Oh, uh, right." Chapel's eyes lit on everything in the room except McCoy. She was sure her face was beet-red. "Well, um, by tomorrow you'll be back to normal."

"Won't be too soon." Then McCoy held up the scraps of cotton and lace that Uhura placed in his hands. "So, I know how to take these off. How do you put them on?"

"I'll, um...here." Chapel braced herself after giving the still giggling Uhura a baleful glare ("You're supposed to be helping!" "I'm sorry!") and assisted McCoy into the bra. She could admit to herself that it felt more than a little strange to help hold a strange pair of breasts in her hands for support purposes while McCoy slipped the bra over his shoulders and clumsily fastened the clasps. "I, uh, trust you can do the panties on you own."

"Yeah, I think I'm okay," McCoy replied with a wink that looked a little odd – sultry, even – as he slid the undergarments up endless legs. Uhura recovered enough to hand McCoy his two-piece uniform, consisting of the undershirt and skirt and the medical-blue short-sleeved over-shirt. Thankfully, McCoy was able to manage the rest of the clothing just fine.

"Now, I left your hair on the short side, so you should be fine with a headband," Chapel said, and handed one to him – blue to match the outer-shirt.

"Thanks." McCoy shoved it on his head. "Any other cosmetic tips or tricks I should know about?"

"Since it's a short mission, I think –"

"Are you guys done in there, can I see him yet?" an unmistakable voice called from the other side of the door. McCoy just groaned.

"Go away, Jim!"

"C'mon, Bones, don't be like that," Jim wheedled, his voice muffled. "I just want to get a look at you before we beam down."

McCoy sighed and gestured to Uhura. "Let him in before he hurts something."

Uhura pressed the security override and the doors slid open. Jim bounded in, all quick smiles and energy until he got a good look at McCoy, now sitting on the biobed, swinging his legs under him. Kirk skidded to a halt. "Goddamn, Bones..."

"Jim..." McCoy started, in warning.

"No, no." Jim held up a hand. "You gotta give me a minute to process this."

"Jim, I swear to God..."

"Does he, uh, y'know, look as good _under_ the uniform?" Jim asked Uhura, not quite under his breath.

"Jim!"

"Better, sir," Uhura replied, in a far too-cheerful tone. Chapel just nodded helplessly.

"Lieutenant!" McCoy barked, although it didn't have the same bite it normally did.

"Sorry, ma'am," Uhura said, and coughed over what sounded suspiciously like another laugh.

"That's it. Jim, out. Now."

"Oh, come on, we still have to go over the mission..."

"No, we don't, I'm there in a medical capacity only, and since I still know how to do my damn job, we're done." McCoy stood, straightening rounded shoulders (he looked a little like one of the ancient Amazons or a Klingon female, Chapel thought) and pointed at the door. "Out."

"Fine, fine." Kirk shuffled backwards. "But if you change your mind and want to experience what it would feel like..."

"If you finish that sentence, I swear to God, I'll inject you with a case of the Mendakan Pox," McCoy threatened. "I hear they still haven't found a cure."

Kirk waited until he got to the door. "I'm just saying you should at least get some alone time and explore..." He was down the hall before the thump of a flying tricorder could hit the space where he'd just stood.

***


End file.
